


Dire Times (A Harry Potter story)

by potterhead25



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Dark, Dark Magic, Evil, Gen, Horror, Magic, Mystery, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Short, Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10049753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potterhead25/pseuds/potterhead25
Summary: CURRENTLY ON HOLD(Set during The Order of the Phoenix)Lord Voldemort has managed to infiltrate Hogwarts to finish the deed he began fourteen years ago. His Dark Magic has touched Harry, setting unknown forces into motion. Harry, Hermione and Ron once again explore realms of powerful hidden magic, with the help of Dumbledore to thwart the Dark Lord's plans...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this in 2008 and recently found the pages, and began to complete it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Let me know what you think.

Emerick Baddock walked slowly toward the Great Hall. He didn’t feel good at all. Who would after what he had gone through? You see, as good as he was at his studies, so was he at playing pranks. His reputation walked before him for all professors, but this time it had been another boy who had done the mischief. Professor Umbridge had been passing by the Herbology greenhouses and she made him treat every single plant where the Bubotuber pus had landed. He even had to scourge the dragon dung of the putrid substance. The boy was a sly member of his own house, and had intentionally wanted to land Emerick in trouble. Why else would he have cast an exploding charm on the Bubotuber Emerick had been working on?

As he shuffled his way through the crowded Entrance Hall, people parted before him as he reeked of something like petroleum and dead flesh. “That’s right, flee before me”, he muttered. He thought he heard somebody call out his name, but dismissed the thought: the further he walked in, the thinner the crowd became. He felt a light putrid breeze pass by him, ruffling his blond hair.

Silently changing his course, he began to walk toward the dungeons. He needed to get out of his overalls and scrub the filth off himself. He reached the blank wall and said, “Parselmouth”, proceeding in through the crack in the stone into the Slytherin common room. Draco Malfoy stood atop one of the wide, low stone tables and beside him, suspended capsized, was Gregory Goyle. The strong boy looked terrified of Malfoy. His head was red with blood, the vein in his forehead fit to burst. Tears streamed down his forehead and into his short wiry hair. Draco was sneering with glee. His entire body began to shake with a high, crude laugh, teeth bared and eyes wide, as if in amazement.

He said, “How do you feel now? Did you really believe I would let you expose my secrets? A Slytherin betray his master? Why, I never…” It was a mere breath of a whisper which echoed all over the room, a hiss, like a slur - not that of a drunkard, but tainted with the hint of the power which lay behind those words. He began to laugh again, but this time Emerick noticed tiny fang like points his teeth ended in, the slits for pupils, eyes reddening alarmingly, the skin paler than ever before…

*

Hermione Granger didn’t feel quite well today either. Ever since the day had started, she had a feeling in her gut constantly nagging her. Something was terribly wrong, as if a dark shadow had been cast over them all.

            She walked toward the Great Hall for lunch after her hour of Arithmancy and noticed Emerick Baddock. He was still in his Herbology slacks and covered in what smelt strongly of dragon dung, his hands red and pockmarked with blisters. She recognised them as caused by Bubotuber pus. The odour only strengthened and she wanted to go make her way toward lunch. The smell kept growing stronger, only now it was tinged with something much more malodorous than the dung or the pus, like a dying bloom of rafflesia.

She had noticed that even Harry hadn’t been himself today. He seemed out of sorts, as if he was unsure of everything he was doing. She'd already told off some iffy Ravenclaws earlier who mentioned something about Harry having gone insane, like an after-effect of the curse he survived. Alongside Umbridge’s detentions he was completely exhausted. She saw something pass over the Baddock boy’s face. A look of disgust crept over his face and his swept, just a little, as if a he was caught in a draft. A chill ran down her spine. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong…

*

Harry Potter’s head was bursting with pain. Last night’s detention had exhausted him, cutting the same words, over and over into the back of his hand. He’d had Hermione help him look up Darkblood Quills in the Library, but the found nothing. They were probably of Umbridge’s own invention.

‘I wouldn’t put it past her,’ Hermione had said. It had taken a while to get her off the subject of him reporting this “detention” to Dumbledore.

_Just two more days,_ he thought, _and then I can go back to playing Quidditch_. He’d mentioned this to Hermione, but later that same day, he’d gone and argued once more with Umbridge, earning another week’s worth of detention. Today, however, he had a terribly irksome feeling of something being out of place. Umbridge was evil, but _this_ was something entirely different, darker and vicious. His dreams had turned clearer than ever: the graveyard, Cedric engulfed in green light, his parents, Voldemort’s anguish. He often woke up covered in sweat with his heart racing.

Harry caught up with the crowd walking toward the Great Hall for lunch when he noticed a tall figure up ahead. The boy stood out in his Herbology overalls in the swarm of black robes and Harry noticed it was Emerick Baddock. He looked quite blank. (Emerick was the only Slytherin Harry had ever befriended. He was a fun boy to be around, always telling funny stories and playing pranks on students (he was the only Slytherin whom Umbridge despised). They had begun talking to one another a few days after the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. One day Madam Pomfrey had been ill herself, and Emerick, gracious as ever, volunteered to help her out. He hadn’t been wearing his robes and Harry had no way of telling he was from Slytherin. They spoke for hours when Harry wasn’t sleeping, given he was the only patient then. What surprised Harry the most was when he said he believed what Harry said about the Dark Lord getting his body back.

“You do?” Harry asked incredulously.

“My parents were part of his inner circle. He killed them when they defied him, a year after I was born, even though our line is related to Slytherin. Don’t go telling that around school though. We had enough heirs walking about two years ago.”

Harry questioned his idea about talking any more to the boy, but Emerick didn’t seem to hate him like the rest of his housemates. He’d even told off a few people who’d come in trying to ask him about what had happened in the maze, about his, now well-publicised “madness”.)

“Hey!” Harry shouted. “Hey, Emerick!” Emerick didn’t turn toward him. He didn’t seem aware of anything going on around him. Instead he began walking downstairs toward the dungeons, Harry following him, as quietly as possible. They headed into the Slytherin common room, the stone wall to which stood open with its edges shattered. The boys stood transfixed at the sight before them: It was Draco, laughing. He looked different, powerful, beside the muscular but helplessly suspended Goyle.

With a flick of Draco’s wand, Goyle crashed to the floor, his flushed face contorted in agony. His fall left a long crack on the stone. Harry thought he saw Malfoy’s lips move, whispering something, but he couldn’t hear it. He noticed the pales slitted pupils redden, the tiny fangs for teeth.

“ _Crucio!_ ”

Goyle began writhing in pain, but no noise escaped his gaping mouth. The pleasure which surged through Draco’s body, his secret preserved, the foolish boy kept quiet, as powerless as his stupid father. The curse lifted and Goyle lay flat on his back panting with a fiery cut on his neck – it didn’t bleed, nor did it sting Goyle, just kept Goyle from screaming, staring at Draco through wide, dark eyes. The wand lifted at him again, and a blast of black vapour left a sharp shooting pain in his chest, cutting him, shutting down his brain. Goyle’s head thudded to the stone floor, just as Draco Disapparated and a bright red light behind Harry and Emerick materialised into Dumbledore.

*

Contrary to Harry and Emerick’s pale faces, Dumbledore looked as ominous as an oncoming storm. He flicked his wand in the direction of the common room entrance and silver light shot out. He went over to Goyle, examining him, pulling up his eyelids, checking his pulse.

Harry couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. It had been Voldemort possessing Malfoy. In Hogwarts?! It seemed beneath Voldemort’s dignity to possess one of his own.

            “What was that?” Emerick said in an unusually high voice.

            “Voldemort’s in the school.” He moved toward Dumbledore while Emerick threw up all over the floor.

*

In the hospital wing, Emerick couldn’t sort out his thoughts. The Dark Lord was in the castle! Part of him was afraid he’d meet the same end as his parents. The image of Goyle suspended in mid-air was still pasted in his mind, the look in Malfoy’s eyes, the sneer, the high voice, not the same as before. A stray piece of plaster fell off the ceiling and into his palm. He rubbed it between his fingers. It was damp and had that certain roughness to it which gives one gooseflesh. He thought he heard footsteps and looked toward the doors: a blinding flash of white light and two red eyes.

*

“How is this possible?” Harry asked. He stood next to Dumbledore over Emerick’s stiff body, Madam Pomfrey bustling around behind them.

            “He isn’t petrified. Neither is he dead,” Dumbledore said. He poked and prodded Emerick with his wand, checked his pulse, his eyes, and strangely, whether his wand had changed its allegiance.

            “Madam Pomfrey, tend to him, would you. He seems aware of his surroundings, just… unconsciously. I have never seen such magic practised. Follow me, would you Harry.”

            They headed out the doors and down to the third-floor corridor, stopping in front of a bust of a man covered with flies.

            “Harry, you cannot stay here. Voldemort seems to have fled the castle for now and I intend to find out how he managed to get past the enchantments. I have aurors patrolling the grounds, if they stop you, tell them, I sent you. Go to Hagrid’s. He will fly you to the Weasley’s, they know what to do. Tell your friends I asked you to return to the Dursleys. Speak to no one else.”

            “Sir–”

            But Dumbledore had already Disapparated. If someone happened to walk by they’d think Harry was petrified. The image of the graveyard returned to his mind. He pulled out his wand, and ran toward the Gryffindor tower.

*

_Where am I?_

            Emerick could tell he was still in the Hospital Wing from the peeling plaster of the ceiling. He tried to move, but he couldn’t and his head throbbed violently. Madam Pomfrey came into his line of sight.

            “Finally, you’re awake!” she said. “Mr. Baddock, can you talk?”

            Emerick tried moving his lips, but they wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t make a sound, or even move his face. As if he had jaw lock.

            “I suspected as much. Oh well,” she shook her head, taking something that looked like a glass needle and a corked vial from out of his line of vision. He felt a sharp prick on his thumb tip and surge of something pumping inside him, hot and fast.

            “Spent all morning brewing this. If it won’t work, I don’t know what will.,” she muttered as the pain receded and he felt something icy rub the pad of his thumb.

            Emerick began to feel faint, slowly, falling into a deep sleep. Madam Pomfrey touched his forehead once and went back into her office.

*


	2. Chapter 2

"Come on harry just tell us where you're really going," Ron said for the umpteenth time.

"I told you, Dumbledore says I need to go back to the Dursleys. Something about the Order. I'll be back later." He began throwing some jeans and shirts in a rucksack along with some bottles of butterbeer and a pack of chocolate frogs. He left his broomstick and the rest of his belongings in his trunk under his bed. Ron continued to shoot questions at him while Hermione stood stock still, frowning at him and he tried to avoid her gaze. He kept rummaging around looking for anything else he might need before shouting, "Shut up, Ron, you're not making any sense!" And indeed, he hadn't, he'd been talking so fast and breathlessly now, it sounded like Mermish. Ron flushed a little. Harry wondered whether it was because he shouted at Ron or because Ron was just embarrassed.

Oblivious to all of this, Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry. Before he could say anything, she whipped out her wand and said, " _Locomotor Mortis!_ " Harry's legs jammed up together and he tumbled to the floor along with a photograph of his parents, his wand clattering under the bed.

"Hermione, what are you doing!" Harry shouted.

"Ron help me get him on to the bed," she said. They both lifted Harry, and sat him with his back against the headboard.

"Hermione, come on, I–"

"Not until you tell us everything."

*

In a condensed retelling, Harry recounted as much as he could. Ron and Hermione were aghast at how the school hadn't been thrown into an upheaval by now.

"So, I have to leave _now_. He's after me. If I am here, he's going to be around."

Hermione lifted the curse and glared at Harry before saying, "Fine, but we're going with you."

"What? No! I can't have the two of you risking your lives for me all the time. I've had enough people sacrificing themselves for me. You two, just stay put here." He retrieved his wand from under the bed and zipped up his bag with a finality.

"Harry, when are you going to understand that you're not alone in this. This is not just your fight, he's a threat to all of us. We're always with you, you ought to know that by now," Ron said.

"He's right Harry," Hermione continued. "You know it's not just going to stop once you get to the Weasleys'. You know _you're_ not going to stop. You're going to need our help."

"Besides, you wouldn't last a day without Hermione to help."

Hermione blushed, but kept a straight face.

"But what about Dumbledore?" Harry said. "What if he finds out you're with me?"

"That's already taken care of, mate," Ron said.

"McGonagall summoned all of the prefects and – well, now we know why Malfoy wasn't there – she told us to keep patrol in the corridors, didn't tell us why, just that everyone was to stay in their common rooms. No one will know we're gone," Hermione said.

"Yeah, and I'm looking forward to an early holiday!" Ron chuckled. "Well, sort of! At least we don't have to give our midterms now!" He added when Harry and Hermione raised their eyebrows at him.

"I _really_ hope this doesn't interfere with our O.W.L.s," Hermione muttered and Ron shook his head at her. He walked to his bed and started throwing his essentials helter-skelter into a shoulder bag. Hermione twirled her wand and pointed it at the door to the boys' dormitory. " _Accio!_ " A loud CRASH! and a rucksack shot through the door and landed at her feet. She picked it up, slung it over her shoulder and twirled her wand in the same fashion for Ron, who screamed and tried to grab a rather interesting pair of undershorts (white with two hearts flanking a wand) shot out from his trunk and into his bag.

"Fred and George," he mumbled. "Last Christmas."

Harry and Hermione couldn't stop laughing.

*

"We can't use the fireplaces, the entire Floo Network is being monitored since the breakout." Hermione sounded so exasperated, Harry was amazed she hadn't slapped one of them yet.

"Then how do we get out of here? Hagrid won't let the two of you leave until Dumbledore says so."

"We can catch the Knightbus," Ron said.

"We can get recognised, Ron!" Hermione hissed.

"It's the best chance we've got. The Cloak can't cover all three of us anymore," Harry shrugged.

As the three of them headed toward the grounds, taking shortcuts Harry pointed out on the Marauder's Map, they noticed they didn't come across a single prefect. The corridors were empty, no tiny dots moving about near their three dots huddled together.

"Everyone's in the Great Hall. Look," Harry pointed out on the lower corner of the map. All the professors and students were assembled. Getting out of here would be easy, once they got past the aurors. They quickly dashed past the third-floor corridor about to go down a flight of stairs when:

"You three! What do you think you're doing out of the Great Hall? Don't you know there's a killer on the loose inside the castle? Third year in a row too, honestly, action must be taken now and it will! Sirius Black, again no doubt!" Umbridge spat at them. She rattled on, "Fifty points each from Gryffindor for your disobedience and a week's worth of detention should help the message _sink in_ , shouldn't it, Mr. Potter?" She began to giggle when her expression froze, as if time had stopped, and then she slowly tipped forward.

Draco stood pointing his wand at the three of them, sneering, eyes reduced to slits, burning with malice.

"How naive, Harry. I would've thought you'd smarter than this," he drawled. "Now die! _Avada –_

" _STUPEFY!"_ All three of them shouted, three jets of brilliant red light missing Draco and ricocheting off suits of armour behind him. A hazy green mist surrounded him, before fading away once their spells died.

 _'Incendio Propellum!"_ Hermione screamed and a blast of hot fire shot out of the tip of her wand, engulfing Draco, mist and all.

The boys began casting Shield Charms when Hermione flicked her wand at the ball of flame and shouted, _"Aerum Horribilis!"_ A gust of steaming air shot out around the ball of fire, engulfing it and pushing it inward.

Harry had never seen Hermione look so determined. His head was pounding: being so close to Voldemort was weakening him, as if all his energy was being sucked out of him. He let out a scream like the one from inside Hermione's ball of fire, before he blanked out. A strange sensation of weightlessness came over him and pain seared through his head. He could hear Ron and Hermione shouting spells and Draco screaming as he blocked them, the heat from their spells hitting him in waves. His wand was vibrating furiously in his hand, just as hot, but he couldn't let go of it. He tried to raise it, but his arm felt like lead. His eyes began to roll back into their sockets and a sharp stab of pain set his chest on fire – he didn't know if he was still screaming, just that he was burning up like an inferno. He felt himself rising away, out of his body: he was surveying the battle going on around – no, _below_ him.

Four professors: McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick and Trelawney were locked in battle with Draco who took them all on singlehandedly. His face was stretched in glee as he shot jets of green and blue light at each of them. Professor Trelawney to Harry's surprise was shooting spells one after another, barely moving her lips, just waving and twirling her wand about. Draco was visibly furious. He'd noticed Harry's body go limp and slide to the floor – that's when Harry took measure of his own surroundings.

He saw himself lying limp on the floor, just the same as Ron and Hermione. A thin bright ring of fire surrounded them, probably – _hopefully_ , by one of the professors.

_Where is Dumbledore?_

He tried to look down at himself, but saw nothing, no haze, no vapour, nothing translucent – at least he wasn't a ghost. He looked over at Draco: he had managed to overpower Professor Sprout. She now lay unconscious behind the other three professors who continued to shoot spells at Draco. Harry could tell they weren't using any fatal spells. He focused back on Professor Sprout, yelped when he noticed that her body was moving, floating into the ring of fire that now surrounded her as well as Umbridge, Ron, Hermione and Harry's bodies. As her body entered the ring, she glowed a burning white for a moment before laying down.

Harry felt pain, so excruciating, he thought he'd pass out again, in this form too – such pain couldn't exist, powerful and unrelenting. It enveloped him, a black curtain of fear and torment. He heard a roar of triumph from Draco. A thud of the spell hitting a body and a crash as a suit of armour fell apart. His vision cleared and he saw Professor Flitwick's body lying broken and battered in a mess of iron and steel, twitching and writhing. He didn't float into the ring of fire like Professor Sprout had.

Smoke began to float upward from the force and heat of the spells. A high scream and burst of green light and everything froze. Draco's face was contorted in fury for a moment before he moved, before his fingers moved toward his chest and began tearing at his clothes, clawing at his bare chest till blood bloomed. His screams escalated. From behind him, a bright crimson glow highlighted his writhing form. Another scream loud enough to rattle armour. Draco's eyes rolled back into his head, hands still clawing at his body, tearing and bleeding. The two Professors continued sending spells toward him but they just bounced off no matter how hard they tried.

The crimson light behind Draco grew brighter and a booming voice echoed, as if from the walls, _"Excorcio Phasma!"_ A flash of bright gold light and Draco fell limp to the ground.

The two professors turned their attention toward the light growing dimmer. A tall slender figure garbed in robes of the deepest darkest black: The Dark Lord himself. His back was turned to them, his gaze fixed on the man Harry had been waiting to see: Dumbledore.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?" said a disgruntled, squeaky voice. Umbridge had woken up. After what she saw she slumped back to the ground with a sickening sigh.

"You will not harm my students or teachers, Tom," said Dumbledore, calmly, yet Harry had never seen such anger in his eyes. When Voldemort laughed, and raised his wand to shoot a curse, Dumbledore swung his wand over his head and launched a torrent of spells at Voldemort who deflected them toward Professor McGonagall and Trelawney who had crouched over the unconscious people. The spell narrowly missed Professor McGonagall who immediately began firing more spells at the Dark Lord while Professor Trelawney continued casting healing spells. Jets of light lit up the corridor, and Professor McGonagall joined Professor Dumbledore and they both began attacking together.

One of Voldemort's spells shot toward the ring of fire, but dissipated into droplets of water once it crossed the boundary. The walls had begun to crack from the intensity of the duel. Harry thought he saw a glance of fear in Voldemort's face. He seemed weak from the effort of trying to cling to Draco's body, but he battled without any inhibitions.

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_ he screamed.

Dumbledore sent a spell toward Voldemort while the Killing Curse made a deep crack in the wall behind him. The spell kept bouncing off Voldemort's green shield, only to fall back repeatedly, relentlessly.

 _"Adamata Necronoma!"_ Dumbledore incanted. The spell he'd shot before strengthened and attacked harder and faster. Voldemort let out a scream of exasperation and held the tip of his wand at his heart. A smooth orb of deep black materialised in mid-air and whooshed past the spell toward Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.

 _"Devestum..."_ Dumbledore began murmuring, pointing his wand at the orb – it's surface began rippling with white waves of energy.

"No!" Voldemort screamed. " _No!_ " His wand arm hung loosely in mid-air. He was panting and his red eyes were wide. He turned away from Dumbledore and McGonagall who kept incanting to stop the orb from reaching them. Suddenly Voldemort stopped, his gaze narrowed at Harry, not his body, but the place above from where he surveyed the battle. His lips twisted into a resemblance of a grin. He pointed his wand once more at the glowing orb he'd shot and directed it at Harry. The orb enveloped him: if Harry could scream he would have – the pain multiplied in his core, if he had one any longer. The last thing he saw was Dumbledore's face in anguish and Voldemort spinning once and vanishing, leaving a green mist behind.

*


	3. Chapter 3

When Harry woke up, he knew he was in the hospital wing. He sat up, slipped on his glasses and in the dim glow casted by the small fires hanging on the walls, Harry saw that all the beds had occupants in them: to his right lay Professor Sprout, and Flitwick to his left. Away from Professor Flitwick lay Ron and Hermione and right toward the end was Umbridge. The other side of the room was covered in a dark shadow, but Harry could tell there was someone lying in one of the beds.

He turned to his right and bit his lip to stop a gasp – he blinked twice, just to be sure. Draco lay in the far corner, paler than ever. His mouth was wide open with a tube extending out into a large metal vessel on the bedside table. Two other tubes extended from his scratched, pink chest and led to a silver... _something_ (Harry guessed it must belong to Dumbledore). A dark velvety sheet lay suspended over his body by magic, sending an odd sort of ripple of air toward his body. His eyes were the most frightening: they were open, staring with the whites, a sliver of an iris visible at the top, as if he'd been Petrified from when he'd fallen. At the foot of his bed in two straight backed chairs sat Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, both asleep, holding hands.

A hand curled around Harry's mouth and held tight – he flailed around trying to shake them off and reach his wand, when the captor held their wand ahead in front of him: it was slender, covered in a lick of vine that swirled around the base. Harry relaxed and Hermione removed her hand from his mouth and sat in front of him. She had scratches all over her, probably a result of the broken stone from the walls they'd been lying amongst.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Fine, I think. You?"

"I'm really tired. I fainted trying to keep up the protection around us."

 _Oh!_ thought Harry. _The ring of fire was her idea._

"Why didn't it bring Flitwick in like the rest of us?"

"I brought them in. I was awake till Sprout fell, I Summoned her in but keeping it up was draining me out. I couldn't stay awake much longer," she whispered. "I woke up hours ago, and spoke to McGonagall."

"How long has it been since the battle?"

"A whole day. Harry, they were furious at you and at Ron and me for not letting you out fast enough. Maybe Dumbledore would have found Draco sooner."

"It doesn't matter anymore, Hermione. He's gone for now. Isn't he?"

"McGonagall said that if Dumbledore hadn't pulled Voldemort from Draco's body sooner, he'd probably have died. His father came in just about then and started a ruckus about security issues. He only shut up when McGonagall told him the whole story."

They both turned to Draco.

"Madam Pomfrey said he's in some sort of a shock. he's healing on the inside, but the possession probably left traces of Voldemort's magic inside him. Remember, in the graveyard he said all the animals he possessed eventually died?" Harry cringed at the mention of the graveyard – a flash of Cedric's body... Voldemort... His parents... He swallowed.

Hermione inched closer toward Harry, slipping her hand in his. Her other hand went to her temple and began massaging it. She looked pale and drawn, but when she opened her eyes Harry saw a fire burning in them he'd never seen before.

"When you fell... I thought... I thought it was over. Then your wand started twitching, and I thought maybe, just maybe I was wrong. Ron got hit about that time, right in the chest. I was so afraid, I couldn't keep up with him. I can't imagine how you felt last year, Harry. I couldn't hold out much longer and he was sapping us, that's why you had that pain in your head because he affects you the most. That's when the professors came, they were looking for me and Ron. When I went back to you and Ron and cast the ring around us," she said.

"Trelawney was wild. I didn't think she could duel like that without chucking one of crystal balls", Harry smiled and Hermione let out a small giggle.

"How do you know she was there? You passed out before any of the teachers reached us." Harry told her of his experience, the weightlessness, the battle, Dumbledore. He left out the part about the black orb – they had enough on their mind without worrying about what it might have done to him.

"Where is everyone else?"

"The teachers are strengthening up enchantments around the rooms where people are staying. Most of the students had their parents Apparate them back home, but some stayed along with their families. They believe you now, those hypocrites. They didn't see him this time either but when Lucius Malfoy says something's happened to his son, they don't stop to ask questions."

They looked at Draco again. Harry could barely tell if he was breathing. A thin sliver of liquid ran up the tubes from his chest and into the silver instrument.

"Dumbledore reckons he's still in the castle. The aurors are tearing the place apart looking for him. The Weasleys are here too. I didn't meet them, but I'm sure I heard Mrs. Weasley's voice outside." She paused for a minute. Then –

"Harry? How did you... get back? You know, in your body? Do you remember anything?"

Harry debated whether he should tell her about the orb, the pain he felt when it touched him. She deserved the truth. When he finished telling her, he sighed and said, "What do you think happened?"

She glared at him for a moment for taking a deep breath and said, "I have a theory. I'm probably wrong, but from what you said, it makes some sense. When the three of us first fought him, he kept eye contact with you. When you moved, he moved. Ron and I were just distractions to him and he was draining us out, but obviously, his target was – _is_ you. When you left your body... maybe it was your soul. I can't think of any other possibility. You said he cast a black orb toward you, and I'm guessing that was part of _his_ soul."

"A _part_ of his soul?"

"A soul is delicate, Harry. It's like nature's magic. When you do good, you feel elated, happy, you say your soul is soaring. When you do something bad... an act, a crime _against_ nature... you hurt your soul. You damage it. It's horrible magic. Uncontrollable. You can't understand it." She paused for a beat while Harry soaked in her words. It was Voldemort's soul around him... part of his soul.

"Harry, the dreams you said you've been having... maybe Voldemort knows of the connection between the two of you. Maybe he wanted to control you, more than just through your dreams. From what you said, I'm presuming Dumbledore stopped what could have happened. I don't know. But Voldemort has a plan, like he's playing a game and he's made the rules. I mean he got into the school!'

"Do you think he's... inside me? Now?" he whispered.

"I really doubt it. Or you'd be like that", she pointed toward Draco.

*

Even though it was noon, Draco's body was still shadowed. Harry could now see the scars, red and deep. Hermione had gone back to her bed and fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow some time before dawn but Harry hadn't been able to sleep at all. The thought of a part of Voldemort inside him made him feel impure, cowering and scared. Like he was something being bred to be slaughtered. He wanted to get away from all of this, the pain, the dark, the heat, the fear of watching more people die for him. He couldn't fathom how he had managed to stop Voldemort all those years ago. Today, if a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore couldn't stop him, how was he expected to? He took on five extremely talented wizards singlehandedly and managed to overpower two of them. His thoughts made him nauseous. By the time the sun set, Madam Pomfrey made him drink a glittering purple potion and he slipped into a deep slumber.

*

"Harry? Harry?"

Groggily, Harry opened his eyes. It was daytime and sunlight was streaming in through the curtains. Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore and Hermione stood on either side of him.

"Don't move", Madam Pomfrey said when he tried to sit up. "Headmaster, I must insist! The boy needs rest, it's only been a day, he's still in pain from the attack. He was barely breathing when Sybill summoned me.

"Poppy, please, this won't take more than a few minutes. Miss Granger, if you would..."

Hermione stepped up and lightly touched her wand to Harry's forehead. _"Expellum"_ , she whispered.

Pain shot along the length of Harry's body from where the wand touched him. Every part of him was on fire and he screamed, begging her to stop, but she held on. He thought his head would burst from the intensity of the pain. He began thrashing on the bed, but didn't fall off, as if the tip of the wand held him down to the bed. He caught a blurred glimpse of Hermione through tears, begging her to stop, but he could tell she wasn't looking at him. None of them were. They all stared at something ahead of him. Finally, the pain began to subside. He felt his body turn limp, every muscle aching and the scar on his forehead throbbing something awful. He felt a pull somewhere deep within his body, but it didn't hurt. He felt strands of hair tickle his face and a soft voice whispering, "Sleep."

*

Hermione wanted to put her head in her hands and cry. Harry was in a comatose state for now – hurting her friends... she couldn't bear the thought. She knew Harry would be alright, it was the sight of him thrashing around as if he'd been electrocuted. This was cruel. Everything the boy had been made to go through was cruel.

She stared at Dumbledore and the result of what he'd made her perform. This was horrible magic. Dangerous. He'd told her to stay focused, that the slightest mistake could destroy everything they were working toward.

A ball of glowing light hovered gently above Harry's limp form, connected to his navel by a strand of similar light: his soul. She was in awe at how something so pure could be so tainted – the tiny orb was littered with tiny streaks of red swirls, like snakes. Voldemort's magic had left its traces on Harry after all.

Professor Dumbledore was hunched over the orb, examining it, his eyes focused intently, the swirls of red throwing a dark glow on his beard. He looked tired and as old as he must be, Hermione noticed drastic changes in his appearance: face pinched in concentration with a century worth of crinkles in pale skin, electric blue eyes fixed with fire. He had his wand in his hand, ready to interfere if her hold over the spell slackened. They were playing with natural law.

Madam Pomfrey finally stepped ahead from her position behind them. "Headmaster..."

"Miss Granger", he whispered.

 _"Returnum"_ , she murmured. The strand of light vanished, and slowly, Harry's soul crept down toward his body. It began to glow brighter as it neared its host before sinking right in, as if it had never been there. Harry was still unconscious. Dumbledore stepped up to Harry's head, pulled back his eyelids.

"Forgive me, Harry", he whispered before Disapparating with a loud _CRACK!_

*

Harry's eyelids fluttered open. He saw the scene just as before, but without the Headmaster. He remembered the pain, the thrashing. He tried to sit up again, but Hermione pushed him down. Without a word, she began to button up his pyjama shirt, pulled the blanket up to his chin and headed toward Ron's bed. He knew she was crying. He wanted to scream, for someone to tell him what was happening to him and what had been done just now. He was sick of people hiding things from him.

"Drink this Potter. It'll help you sleep", Madam Pomfrey said holding up another goblet of the purple potion. Sleep sounded good.

*


	4. Chapter 4

Although Emerick was still confined to his bed, unable to move, his vespertine dose of Curatine and Restorative Draughts had been stopped. Madam Pomfrey had stopped the dose when he began exhibiting some movement in his fingers. Now, Emerick had control up to his wrists, eyes and some facial muscles. He still couldn't form words – his tongue still sat flaccid, held by a charm Madam Pomfrey had cast to keep it from choking him. They still didn't know what kind of magic had been cast on him, its implications and whether there would be any lasting effects if it completely wore off.

He had seen Dumbledore and the Granger girl do something to Harry. He'd heard screams and whispers and the creak of bedsprings as if someone were jumping on them.

The evening had passed with Malfoy's parents departing for a while from their son's side to collect his belongings from his dormitory and take them back home. Now, in the night, he lay with his eyes wide open, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. He was tracing an odd pattern he noticed there, the cracks intricately converging as if they had a meaning. It looked vaguely familiar even though he knew he was playing make-believe with himself.

A black shadow creeped past those cracks. At first, he was terrified it might be a Lethifold but dismissed the thought. They were unheard of this far north. The shadow began creeping past him toward the other end of the infirmary, stopping directly over Harry's bed. A head began to materialise out of the darkness, pale and serpentine.

Emerick tried to make a noise, anything to alert the aurors outside. He tried to stretch himself, but his body remained flaccid. He tried to pull at the sheets with his fingers, trying to rustle them but they barely crinkled. He managed to get a grip and caught on, pulling his body on his side. On his bedside table was a jug of water. He could see the reflection of the fires hanging on the walls and a pale face glinting in the moonlight. He heard a swish of a wand being drawn. He lurched forward, tipping his body as much as he could manage and slipped off the bed, his head colliding with the table and the jug of water toppling over and clanging on the stone, drenching him.

The infirmary lit up with spells being shot from both ends of the room and a scream of fury. Emerick managed to turn his head just an inch to tell who was where.

Lord Voldemort kept shifting his form from his body to the black shadow he'd been before and back to his body. He stood quite far from Harry now, right in the centre of the room duelling both McGonagall at the entrance and Madam Pomfrey behind him. Both witches shot bolts of silver from their wands which Voldemort deflected toward the ceiling, but the ceiling didn't crack.

Why aren't the others waking up? He remembered the pink potion Madam Pomfrey administered for sleep. A bright ball of light whooshed past McGonagall, a Patronus.

"NO!" Voldemort screamed. His body began to grow more defined out of the black vortex of shadows and he shot a curse at Madam Pomfrey who crashed limp into a cabinet, before turning his attention to McGonagall. Her hair had tumbled out of her tight bun and blew about her face from the ferocity of the duel. She launched a jet of white flame which engulfed Voldemort which he countered with a green shield, dousing the flames to smoke. Voldemort stretched his free hand in McGonagall's direction, holding up the shield while his wand pointed at the ceiling spurting more green smoke and screamed, "I will finish what I started fourteen years ago – I will kill Harry Potter!"

*

Dumbledore hadn't slept in five nights. He'd sensed something wrong all those days ago, the scales tipping in someone else's favour and his mind had been racing. Harry...

One of the many silver instruments in his possession tinkered in mid-air over his desk. Fawkes purred gently on his perch.

"Phineas!" he called out at a portrait of wrinkled man in a turban. Most of the portraits shook awake at his voice, except the one he was addressing that continued to snore. The other portraits too began calling out when he refused to wake up. Finally, a woman in a neighbouring portrait with a long and thick wand walked into Phineas' portrait and rapped on his head. The man grumbled and said, "Very well, what is it Dumbledore?" The woman slid back into her portrait with a smug smile.

"Phineas, I require of you to go to your portrait in Grimmauld Place and inform Sirius Black of his godson's condition. You know what I'm talking about", he added when Phineas opened his mouth to counter.

"That ungrateful brat", Phineas continued to grumble as he stood up, taking his time to brush off his robes and walking to the back of his portrait a leisurely pace till the woman next to him threatened him with her wand again.

Before Dumbledore returned to his desk, his eyes roaming over the instrument suspended there, Fawkes let out a long crow. A glowing Patronus burst through the wall and Madam Pomfrey's voice rang out, "You Know Who! – hospital! – Potter!" The Patronus vanished and Dumbledore Disapparated.

*

AN: This is a short one, because this is where I'd stopped all those years ago. I'm working on continuing it, and I'll put it up soon!


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